Dark Comfort
by Aulizia
Summary: A missing scene from the Deathly Hallows. A short glimpse at the repercussions of Lucius’s failure to stop Harry Potter escaping from Malfoy Manor. Lucius/Narcissa. Oneshot.


Dark Comfort

Rating: PG (for allusions to torture)  
Pairing: Lucius/Narcissa  
Summary: DH SPOILERS!!! A short glimpse at the repercussions of Lucius's failure to stop Harry Potter escaping from Malfoy Manor (although it was undoubtedly Bellatrix's fault; everything Lucius gets blamed for is Bellatrix's fault. :P).

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Dark Comfort

The heavy drapes were pulled against the sun, blocking out all light and turning day into night.

It had been night continuously for longer than Lucius Malfoy could remember. The only thing that broke the monotony of the hours was the pain. His body was broken, and his spirit was close to following.

Supposing he wasn't the only one paying for his mistake? Supposing Narcissa or Draco _or both_, were suffering the same fate as him?

It was when his tortured mind was lucid enough to ask those questions that his pain was at its most intense.

Time passed. Impossible to tell how much, but a greater sense of clarity slowly awakened inside Lucius's mind. Despite the darkness and despair that had been left to surround him he didn't lose himself.

Eventually, the muffled sound of voices penetrated his prison. His whole being tensed as he waited, _expected_ a new dreadful happening to unfold. What it might be this time he didn't dare to imagine.

He kept his gaze averted from the door, as it swung open, casting the room into sinister shadows that were in some ways worse than the dark.

"Lucius?"

He had expected more pain, to hear the hiss of a curse, or the sneer of a threat. He would certainly never have dared to hope for the soft whisper of his wife's voice. It was a trick, or he was imaging it perhaps? It wouldn't be the first time.

He clenched his jaw, and forced himself to remain calm.

"_Lucius!"_

The door slammed shut violently, but the shadows continued to dance by the flicker of a single candle.

Lucius finally turned his head, struggling to see through eyes that he could barely open whether or not he was alone, insane or in danger.

There was a sharp, indrawn gasp, a flurry of footsteps, and then the delicate scent of honeysuckle and jasmine reached Lucius's nostrils as the woman fell to her knees beside him.

"What did he _do_ to you?" Narcissa's voice was dangerously low, and throbbed with anger.

If this was test, Lucius didn't know if he was strong enough to pass it.

The woman _looked_ like Narcissa, her voice, her scent, they both belonged to his wife, but it wasn't until she reached out to caress his bloodied cheek that he trusted. His other senses might be fooled, but the connection forged between them, living in their very skin, flowing through their blood, could not be imitated.

"Narcissa," he croaked, throat and mouth painfully dry.

"Here. I have some water," she said quickly

Narcissa reached for a glass that Lucius had failed to notice before. She lifted it to his split lip and helped him to drink. He wanted to do so greedily. His thirst was intense, unquenched, but Narcissa was careful to only let him sip slowly and wouldn't let him finish the glass in one go.

"Better?" she asked softly.

Lucius closed his eyes as the cold water chilled his empty stomach. "How are you?" he rasped instead. "How is Draco?"

"Fine, we're fine," Narcissa answered hurriedly and curled her fingers tightly around her husband's hand.

"He didn't-"

Narcissa shook her head quickly. Even in the dim, flickering candlelight Lucius could see that her beautiful face remained unmarred, her body undamaged by injury. For that he was glad, would be thankful to the Dark Lord.

"They wouldn't let me come to you," she whispered, hardly audibly, but grief and pain lanced her confession.

"It doesn't matter."

"It _does_!" she cried.

Their eyes met, his taking strength from the burnished anger that blazed in the depths of hers like blue fire. She glanced down at their still entwined hands and drew a steadying breath to compose herself.

"I'm going to light the rest of the candles, and then I'm going to go and see if we have any _Essence of Dittany_ left-"

"Narcissa, why-?"

"And then I'll go down to the kitchen and bring you something to eat-"

"Narcissa!" Lucius interrupted. His voice had been gaining strength through his wife's peculiar catalogue of tasks. She glanced at him, but almost immediately looked away again. "Why can't you use your wand to do those things?" he demanded, his tone strained.

There was a silence for a moment, broken only by the sound of their breathing.

"I don't have it," she whispered, and she shivered as she spoke.

Lucius's voice died in his throat. They were _both_ without their wands? It was so devastating a notion that he could barely comprehend it.

"I gave it to Draco," Narcissa explained. Her husband jerked with surprise. "The Dark Lord sent him back to Hogwarts, and Potter had taken his," she continued her voice growing weaker. She said nothing for a moment, and then he edged even closer to Lucius, eyes wide, looking afraid of the words that she was about to speak. "Do you think he might be safe there? Because- because McGongall at least, and some of the other teachers- they won't-"

Lucius pressed his fingers against Narcissa's lips before she could say anything else in a swift movement that caused pain to shoot through his body. She didn't have to say the words and risk someone overhearing her. Punishing _her_. He understood. Of course he did.

"Your _wand _though," he groaned, leaning his head back against the wall. She was now defenceless. So defenceless. "Your wand," he murmured again.

"It doesn't matter now," Narcissa said, and managed to summon a small smile, as she leant her head against Lucius's shoulder. "I hope- I _think_ it will protect him."

The End


End file.
